Under Stress
by Event Horizon-Argus Black
Summary: Chapter 8 (the LAST chapter) is up! It's an orchestra of songfics- (Godsmack/Tool/Marilyn Manson for some reason) Twisted & weird, so don't read if you don't fit that description as well.
1. Under Stress

Disclaimer: I think I'll start off with this for a change. I DON'T own Digimon or Godsmack. They're too cool to be my property.  
Ken: Man, what an inferiority complex!  
EH: Shut up, you...  
  
FYI: The song used is Stress by Godsmack. Buy the CD! You won't be disappointed!  
  
Category: Kaiyako and Kenyako. Or Emplei and Kenlei, for you hard core Fox viewers. And thanks to a VERY alert reader (Cynthia Piedmon's Lady, I owe you one!) I now know his name isn't Satoru... (I really liked that name, too. Shucks!)  
Ken: Can we continue?  
  
Censor: Serious PG-13 to mild R (see next line)  
  
Warnings: No citrus here, folks. Violence, yes. Angst, yes. Naughty four letter words, yes. Pssht, nearly EVERY good story has all three... Also included herein is the awkward subject of abuse and the flammable relationship between master and slave. And no, this doesn't qualify for OOC. I can see Miyako acting in this way. Who really could be assertive in this situation? Ken also acts appropriately. He has mental issues, people! Anyone can see that...  
Ken: Like you don't?  
EH: That's it! Miyako, get the shovel. Someone's digging his own grave.  
Miyako: Yes, Ma'am!!  
  
Last Chance: On with the fic!

  
  
  
  


Under Stress

He paced in front of the lavender haired girl, her tears drying. His sore hand pumped unconsciously.  
  
"Who do you think you are?" he hissed through clenched teeth for the seven thousandth time that day. "You think yourself good enough to berate me?" His tone was dangerous, tempting her to slip up. "You think you are in any position to make a fool of me? WHO THE BLOODY FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!" She whimpered once as he stepped closer. His voice was beginning to hoarse and every cell of her body ached.  
  
_ You think your head's achin', I'm not finished yet..._  
  
Her lips parted to offer another plea for mercy, but the swelling was causing too much pain. He had chained her up against the wall in a secluded room in his fortress. She stood through most of the beating, but her legs had given out and she hung by her wrists. Crimson blood oozed gently from the corner of her mouth and her left eye was bruised shut. The Kaizer was right-handed; so most injuries were inflicted on her opposing side. Nearly an hour ago, in his fury, he had broken one of her ribs. Breathing was torturous and she had been silent since then. How stupid she had been in the first place, how easily caught. The echoing voices in her head only served to sear her wounds.  
  
During the fight with Deltamon - how long ago that seemed! - she'd been captured. After the eight Digi-heroes had escaped his sand trap and beaten back his hoards of Bakemon, they forced the lone Airdramon into retreat. As the haughty figure disappeared into the horizon, Yolei - or what they thought was Yolei - metamorphosed to become the white, mocking figure of a Bakemon. She had become his prisoner. The young girl didn't know for sure how long she'd been working (using that term lightly) in his citadel. Time had lost all meaning as one day blended into the next. Neither was she sure if her comrades were even trying to rescue her. What she was sure of, was that the proud teenager that first entered this cell had died.  
  
Infamous for her loud and irritating mouth, she had underestimated his ability to enjoy human suffering and called into question his sanity. In front of Wormmon. She'd embarrassed the EMPEROR, perfection in flesh, in the audience of that worthless worm. Her sarcastically singeing words as she brought him breakfast this morning began: "Before I leave, KEN, I just wanted to know if YOU knew which of your many split personalities is keeping me captive? And could you ask them why? I have a nauseating feeling that it has something to do with the huge amount of cameras installed here and the stack of adult magazines I keep having to sweep around. Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot to ask WHOM it is I'm speaking to..." When he kept silent for so long, unable to meet her glare, she realized how presumptuous she'd been. And how much shit she was in.  
  
_ I won't be mistaken, how soon you forget..._  
  
She'd never try to test his authority again. That is, if she lived. If he allowed her to live.  
  
_ Take back what you said, and I'll spare you pain..._  
  
That's what really had upset him. The truth in her question. As irritating as it was, it deserved a share of his introspection. Who really had chosen? The smooth dictator, the weak adolescent, or the libidinous, carnal beast? He leaned his face close to hers, deciding to answer her long-dead question. She squeezed her right eye tight shut, sending the last of her tears cascading across bruises. Wishing he'd end her life, the horrible existence he proved he could offer, she gasped - half whimpered and sobbed out loud, inviting her throbbing chest to stab at her brain.  
  
"I'm sorry... please... please... _master_," she offered, awash in supplication. "Please, master, stop. I can't take anymore... Kill me. Thank you for punishing me... Just, please... Kill me." Miyako half-believed it and sincerely hoped he would. It would be better than continuing to be his sadistic toy.  
  
_ Then you can spare me all your fucking lies..._  
  
He grabbed her face with his intact left hand and whispered, barely restraining his rage.  
  
"Who let you talk? I didn't say you could talk, did I?" She shook her head shamefully. He chuckled in a deep baritone before he started. "Kill you? No, slave, I think I'll let you suffer." She winced and went limp, all hope stolen. "But I've given your little insurrection some thought and have concluded as to who captured you. Would you like to know?" Since her only other option would result in insane anger unleashed on her body, she nodded. Still grasping her jaw, he tipped her face slightly heavenward and allowed himself a moment of weakness.  
  
_ I can't wait to get away..._  
  
Enjoying the scent of mingled sweat and blood that filled his nostrils, he brushed her puffy lips with his, lingering in an ironically gentle act. After a small eternity, he pulled back, removing his fingers to trail down her chin. Miyako's eyes shot open, daring to lock with his, irises swimming in questions, yet not daring to make a sound.  
  
"Does that sufficiently answer your question?" he barely breathed.  
  
_ I ask you twenty more times; don't you hear a thing? You're testing my patience again, careful for your sake..._  
  
Hopelessly confused, she opted to lose herself in those kind Ichijouji eyes of indigo. This only re-ignited his fury.  
  
"Did I answer your QUESTION?! ANSWER ME!!" She felt the palm of his comforting left hand connect with her unbloodied cheek.  
  
_ Take a walk with me there, and I'll show you pain. But who said you can open up your mouth?_  
  
Her gasping head hung, and she quickly spat out:  
"I'm sorry, master. So sorry. Please forgive me."  
"Your answer, please." His eyes burned with shades of anger and humiliation. She shook her head.  
"No, master. No, it doesn't. Forgive me, but I'm more confused than before."  
"Of course you are, you ignorant leech. You don't want me to demonstrate again, do you?" his tone had grown tired, and she was again befuddled as how to respond, if at all. Acting before she could think, he stepped to the smooth black wall and unlocked the cuffs digging in to and encircling her wrists.  
  
_ I can't wait to get away..._  
  
She started to fall to the floor, unable to support her suddenly mammoth weight; but he slid an arm underneath her shoulder and lifted her into a fatigued cradle.  
  
_ Thoughts are pissed away, and for a minute I couldn't swallow..._  
  
With some effort he stood, the boy of kindness directing his actions and fighting the other - stronger - personalities back.  
  
"Mmm... Miyako. Why do you have to be so bull-headed?" Gently chastising, he continued, "Why can't you just be a good, submissive slave?" Overwhelmed with conflicting emotions provoked by having her torturer and rescuer be the same person, she drew into a painful silence, unsure of her safety. He was boiling over with the blurry sensation she always produced in him. The Kaiser lowered his head, kissing the battered figure reclining in his arms.  
  
_ Thoughts are pissed away, and for a minute I couldn't swallow..._  
  
She spread her lips and Ken took the opportunity to inch his tongue forward, seeking hers out. The two entwined around one another, and for an immeasurable moment, the extent of the universe was two bodies tightly pressed together.  
  
_ If you think that I'm the one who'll be here come tomorrow, think again..._  
  
The youth parted, breathing heavily on each other's damp skin. Despite the stabbing pain stemming from her left lung, Miyako was in heaven. All she could see was that those perfect eyes radiated compassion, a visceral longing. Ken blinked. He opened them, and radiated indifference. Indifference, self-berating embarrassment - and anger.  
  
"I'll send a few Bakemon in here to tend to your wounds," his voice was monotone, robotic. "You can have the rest of the week off to heal, but next Wednesday, I expect you to be doing light cooking." He laid her on the cold concrete.  
  
_ In time I'll be here, not waiting for you anymore..._  
  
The Kaiser walked towards the door. Turning, he added,  
"Oh, and never - I mean NEVER - speak to me like that in front of anyone. If you must carry such opinions, I suggest you express them in private. Not to mention with proper respect." She nodded her agreement, never wishing to incur such wrath again. "...and Ms. Inoue?" Her eyebrows lifted. Why had he used that name? Why not 'slave'? He grabbed the door handle and broke eye contact, sighing deeply. "I think I love you... That's why..."  
  
_ I love you anyway..._  
  
She inhaled sharply and he shut the door, plunging her body and her pain into darkness. Shuffling down the hall, he eyed a patrolling Gazimon.  
  
'Because I crave the knowledge of where you are, because I don't want to spend anymore nights alone. Because I can't take my filthy eyes off you.' Lines of sadness traced the boy's face. '...That's why. ...So tired of being alone.'  
  
_ Is it so rare that I've been sleeping with the dead...?_

  
  
  
  


EH: Yeah, my thoughts exactly. Pretty stupid...  
Ken: gasping / What kind of a monster do you think I am?  
EH: Umm... haha... I don't REALLY think you're a freak, Ken...  
Ken: What if I give you a reason? holds shovel in threatening manner /  
EH: Eeep!!  
Miyako: Oh, brother. Just when I thought we were through with that... Um, since Event Horizon is being chased around, I'LL take the liberty to say that there MIGHT be more chapters, some obviously more heavily rated, and that you really should review. confidentially whispering / Yesterday, we didn't get any reviews, and she cried all day... Man, what a baby... Hehe, anyway, the button is mere pixels beneath your mouse. See it? I knew you would.


	2. Situation

EH: 'Kay, this is the insert uncontrollable laughter here / long-awaited chapter 2  
of 'Under Stress' - my crappy attempt at a dominant Kaiyako thingy.  
It didn't go over too well.  
Ken: If they're reading this, then they MUST have liked the other well enough to  
continue, n'est pas?  
EH: You're right, as ALWAYS. more to herself than anything / Don't you get tired  
of ALWAYS being right?  
Kaiser: WHAT was that?  
EH: Heh, heh... Nothing! Um... Godsmack's lyrics to 'Situation' and Toei's  
characters are used here, neither of which I exactly have written (or verbal or  
implied) permission for. Don't sue!

  
  
  
  


The great curtains were drawn.

They'd been all day. It was so hard looking outside at the beautiful digi-verse when you didn't feel the same way. Unhappy. The bed was unmade, sheets and blankets in disarray. One was limp and dead on the floor. The boy was atop the chaos, still clothed in black pajamas.

_Lying in my sweat, drying my tears._  
  


That pesky worm had bothered him all morning with 'are you okay, master' s and 'won't you at least have breakfast' s. Until he shut him up. A whip was so useful that way. Sometimes, the mere presence of it - swaying dangerously in the stale air - was enough. Today was not one of those days. So the insect got a few lacerations. So what? So was that why he'd been motionless for the past hour?

_Waiting for you - I am..._  
  


Nothing that happened today mattered in the least. His mood had been spoiled before he even woke. Yesterday was the only thing on his betrampled mind. Maybe if he stayed in bed forever, he'd never have to deal with it. Yes, that was it! Don't let it matter. Don't give it audience. It'll just go away on it's own.

_Making me feel like I don't care. I don't care!_  
  


But holding your head high and avoiding her forever wouldn't work. It was only his pretty little fantasy. Something easily dispersed by the red LCDs on his nightstand. 1:25. His stomach, seeing how he'd let time slip, was whining for attention. Swinging his regal legs to the floor, the Kaiser shuffled toward the kitchen-cum-circuit repair room. Oh, perfect. The green slug was on the counter, hopeful blue eyes wordlessly pleading with Ken's frown. Pleading. Pleading for attention - to make the pain stop.

_This situation in my head,  
Will this situation ever end?_  
  


He froze where he was and shut his eyes tightly.  
"M-m-master? Are you okay? Do you want something to eat?" The tremulous voice cut sharply and psychically drew him to a stool.  
"Yeah... Why don't you make me some cereal?" Brushing wires and solder out of the way, the child rested his face on his hands. Why? Why did he go that far? Sure, she was impudent and sorely in need of a lesson, but - he'd gone too far. Made her scream too much - he couldn't forget the echo long after she stopped. Made the blood rush to his tender knuckles and made even the bacteria that covered the walls shrink in terror. Was this what they felt? The vision-eroding, black panic that was making him forget to exhale?

_How can I feel if I can't breathe?_  
  


The full bowl was pushed to bump against his elbow. Senselessly returning to life, the food flew to the tile. His pupils were constricted to points that darted to the puddle of milk and Count Chocula. He'd knocked that clumsy fool to the ground, too.  
"Aaaaiii!" Wormmon struggled to get all eight feet underneath of him on the wet flooring. "Master, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have spilled that... I'll get... I'll get a towel to clean it up." So the incident this morning was still fresh in the mon's mind - afraid and accepting blame while blameless.  
"Do you have _any idea_ where the towels are?" Ken spit, annoyed. More at himself, but nonetheless annoyed. The worm didn't know where the towels were in all those drawers. Neither did he. Wormmon's first suggestion - the one he didn't even begin - would've summoned the proper authority on the matter. If the party in question wasn't half unconscious. Though he hadn't gone to see her - he couldn't bring himself to - he was informed as soon as he was awake enough to yell. But why _should_ he go see her? Kaisers didn't make bedside visits. Not to their enemies, not to their slaves, not... What was she exactly?

_What we once had will never be again._  
  


Yesterday, he had counted her as both. An object to be despised, the lowest possible rank. But if she was both, why did he...  
...and go and ruin everything? Because she was another human, no matter how loathed, and she answered some question that was growing inside his head? Could it be that he made her subservient so he could keep her with him and ask himself that question?

Never mind wanting an answer. Right now, he didn't want the question.

_This situation in my head,  
Will this situation ever end?_  
  


Damn breakfast and damn that spill! He had to get away, confront his headache and smother it. Barely breaching the milk puddle, the czar strode out of the room, his ego flapping behind him and his pride clenched tightly in his left hand. Didn't Wormmon say she was in her bedroom?

_I cannot take it anymore!_  
  


Yes, that's right... He wasn't too proud of it, but he'd been in a good mood that day. He had been bored with watching her on the monitors, seeing where she slept, where she crouched in the shadows. Always in the same place - hiding from him when he came to increase her displeasure. The stench was rising and wanting to leave that living crypt and never return was top priority. So he gave her a space worthy of the title 'bedroom'. That was where he was heading now.

A strange aura hung in the air, not unlike a hospital or funeral home. His steps slowed, turning the knob and pushing into the gray room with reverence. Miyako lay quietly sleeping, her midsection swathed in white gauze. Her left eye was barely swollen, but the purple that closed it would remain for days. The worm must have cleaned her up pretty well, for the only blood that showed was a fresh trickle spouting from the corner of her emotionless mouth. He wanted to approach, really, but instead - bottom lip bit - he stood by her feet. He'd come to put her back in her place, the place she'd held comfortably; but she was dreaming. He couldn't very well wake her up and utter some sinister hope-crushing phrase when he was staring like a sad, frightened toddler. His eyes lifted slowly from her toes. The question was driving him mad. Was it true? As he made his way up her blanketed outline, he swore he could hear an audible 'yes'. His teeth let go of the lip and he let his bottom jaw slack open the smallest bit. Looking at her now, it had to be yes.

_I really like what you can give me but I don't know where I'm standing right now  
Not yet._  
  


Now answered, why wasn't he doing anything? It was _his_ castle and _he_ was in control. But what if she didn't forgive him? What if she just rejected him like she had every right to? What if he felt too safe in their previous relationship that he was willing to keep the answer to himself? Oh, why wouldn't she wake up and give him a reason to keep silent?

_I really feel that you can hear me why you're not turning this around I'll never know._  


Bitter frustration leaked noiselessly from his eyes. Feeling these two emotions at the same time was bound to give him a neurotic complex sooner or later. The pajama-ed emperor tiptoed quietly to the side of her twin bed. It was about time that he gave into his Id - stifled screaming all day. He knelt on the unswept concrete and lightly rested his head next to the shattered bone. His mussed hair barely touching her waist, he sighed and gazed at happiness for five entire minutes.

_This situation in my head,  
Will this situation ever end?_  
  
  
  
  
  


EH: So, that about does it this time around.  
Wormmon: I found the towels! But, they're in a top cabinet and I can't reach them...  
EH: sighing heavily / Must you interrupt? I was starting my apology.  
Ken: Hee hee, you've got a LOT to apologize for!  
EH: ANYWAY... I know this series ahem / now contains much OOC-ness on  
Ken's part and my abuse of three (maybe more) wonderful characters, so I'm  
gonna take the time now to apologize. There.  
Ken: listlessly / Bravo. Please review?


	3. :: interlude ::

Oh, I saw all the wonderful reviews for the last chapter and dropped everything: deadlines, dinner, social plans, overall personal appearance... laughs nervously / to write this next chapter. Technically, it's just an intermission because no song should be subjected to such a short chapter.  
  
But then, I couldn't stop writing... So do read chapter four as well!  
By the way, I don't own Digimon. Duh.

  
  
  
  


The soap water fell over the rag and the girl's pruned fingers. If it had been yesterday, when she wasn't too tired to think but too tired to care, she would've casually built the bubbles into mounds, blowing the largest off the top and into the air. Today she was at one extreme, and her hands limply carried the black dishrag over the plates. Per the overwhelming motif, all the dishes were black, circumscribed with a line of gold. Miyako almost cracked a smile. He could be so transparent. He hid his eyes behind smoked shades and kept his face stonily silent, but she could stare inside his head just by staring at her surroundings. The kitchen where she stood now didn't even have one window. The tile on the floor was black, the stones that built the wall were black - the refrigerator was black! She alone broke the somber mood. Her hair, last brushed a week ago, was a beautiful tint of purple. Sure, her pants were grey, but her shirt was a vivid red - albeit worn and dusty. But not only her environment lent her a clear view of the boy's psyche.  
  
Early last week her brain was a fog - recovering in that barren bedroom for her disloyalty. She thought she'd seen him next to her bed, huddling on the floor. But reality was so indistinguishable from her dreams. If it was a dream, why would she long for him to be near her? Miyako scrunched her brow, filtering out the knots of unconsciousness. No, he was there. It wasn't a mere dream.  
  
But why had he come? She could only think of one reason: he'd been to check on her? Was he worried? Or... well, why else would someone check on an injured person? But if he didn't want her to know, why didn't he just send Wormmon? She remembered glancing over at her alarm clock and reading that it was two in the afternoon. He was still in his pajamas, right? She knew he hadn't been clad in his Kaiser clothes. Right now, Miyako mused, she wouldn't be shocked if he'd done the same thing today. It seemed like he'd been losing to her faraway friends a lot lately, and moping around was becoming part of his routine. She knew he'd been working on something big, a secret weapon of sorts, but that too had been replaced by sleeping in and locking himself in his bedroom. She turned to look at the red digits on the clock on the wall. Eleven thirty-six on a - it was Saturday, right? More than likely he was out conquering and oppressing. That would explain why she hadn't seen Wormmon yet. Miyako felt like going and searching to check if they both were gone, but didn't dare. She'd changed a lot since last week as well.  
  
Too much. There were things she would've pushed in the past. Questions that nagged at her that she would've demanded answers to. She still asked herself that question, but could push it out of her conscious thoughts with a few dirty dishes. It no longer troubled her like it should've. If she'd been whole.

  
  
  
  


EH: Nothing here. Seriously.  
Miyako: um, Chapter 4 awaits! Go NOW!


	4. Forgive Me

Drum roll, please... Chapter 4! I'm taking another Godsmack song way out of context. The song's name is 'Forgive Me' (like you won't figure THAT out...).  
And again, I don't own either Godsmack or Digimon. I could, but I don't.  
  
Without further ado... (I'm really quite proud of this chapter...amazing what hunger will do for your writing)

  
  
  
  


Ken wasn't in his room, asleep. Ken wasn't outside, carousing and crushing. Instead, he stared blearily at the calm blue screen, numb fingers on the transparent keyboard. He could feel the darkness under his eyes growing. One day too much sleep, the next too few. It was hard work avoiding that damned girl.  
  
_ There's nothing to me now. An empty shell unfolded._  
  
Why did he torment himself? He was king, none equal. He shut his eyes slowly to the 3D framework on the monitor. So close to finishing his work, so close to losing his mind.  
  
_ How, when we learn to pray inside our demons are laughing  
How long will this go on? Are we a bit much stronger?_  
  
He hadn't talked to her for... oh, it was only a week, but felt like forever. He missed her like his right arm, missed everything. The small disgusting smirks he let himself enjoy as he watched her. The tension in the air when she was in the same room. The way she quivered when he fixed her in his glare. The way he quivered when they were so close he could feel her body heat, he could smell her. He'd barely been able to watch her on the screens, and the only way he knew she hadn't escaped was the daily updates from the slug and the overbearing fact that she COULDN'T escape. She was somewhere in the maze of hallways. Somewhere - might as well be nowhere at all.  
He was such a wuss. Why wouldn't he let his feet move to find her? Why did his brain keep writing over the question - the answered question?  
  
_ Do you think you can save me from living this way?_  
  
He chewed on his lip, motioning his treasured project closed. With a sigh of weakness, he opened up the network of cameras. He needed to see her. See her beautiful form, to see-to KNOW she was there.  
The mainframe processors ground through the myriad of possibilities. Hoping to find one, just one worthy result for its master. The machine stopped, popping a window open that contained the human female. From its vantage point high on the wall, the camera gathered the top of her purple head, cocked to one side in wonder. Despite himself, he slouched deeply into his chair, his lips parting with a sigh of relief. She was on his screen again. Where she should be. A smile, slightly amused, sat on his face. What was she looking at? His view was limited by the lens, but he saw her folded arms, the way she gently leaned on her hip against the wall. He put his right elbow on the armrest, smushing his chin lightly with the infamous hand. He knew why he'd taken her. Somewhere in his head, he'd known it all along. But now, every cell screamed the truth. The Kaiser was lifeless goo as he watched her.   
  
A sound, instantly recognizable, poked at him through the air. He didn't move, paralyzed with fear. Behind his smoky lenses, his eyes grew wide. No, he was just hearing things, right? It poured through his ears again louder, shattering any naive hope. Someone was clearing their throat.  
  
Behind him.  
  
The Kaiser cleared his throat as well. Not for attention, no. To clear the terror from his voice, to make it proud and strong. And lightly irritated.  
"Yes?" Please let it be Wormmon... On screen, Miyako lifted her head, inspecting the camera critically. All for show, he twisted his head around the back of the chair with a fatal glower. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?!" He stopped, inhaling the tiniest bit. Framed by the lit doorway, Miyako brought her eyes back to gaze forward. He had been watching her watching him watching her.  
  
She stepped hesitantly forward, trying to muster as much confidence as she could find. The figure on the screen exited, leaving a view of the blank and lifeless hallway. Her eyes darted up to the screen briefly, bringing them back to settle on the purple glasses as she moved closer. He sat up straight, too surprised to manage any type of commanding presence.  
Now she was at his side, scared to death. What was he going to do to her? 'Did I SAY you could come in here?!!!'  
He was looking up at her eyes, scared to death. What was she going to say to him? 'I caught you watching me, pervert!' He opened his mouth.  
"Hi." It was so tiny, so feeble. Something an utterly ashamed 'Kenny-boy' would say.  
"Hi." She couldn't think properly and she started to panic. You're so stupid coming here. Look what he did to you last time! Miyako stepped backwards with one foot, creating enough space to run if he lunged at her.  
  
His throat caught slightly, choking on fear. Why was she backing away? Did she realize what he... His breath came in shallow, mute gasps.  
  
_ I don't know how to love. I just know how to live.  
All I feel is hate. Will you forgive me?_  
  
But he couldn't say it. Couldn't take off his face and say it. Make her terror dissipate, make all the watchful bacteria relent to relief.  
"I..." His mouth hung open, begging his lungs to function. "...am sorry."  
"For what?" Miyako glanced up at the electrical rendering of the hallway. "You have every right to know where your slaves are."  
"NO-" he spat frustratedly, his heart pounding, making him perspire microscopically. "...no..." Ken stood heavily, joints acting aged and stiff instead of spry. Somewhere above him, the accusers in his brain peered carefully, picking apart his every move. "For-" His mind raced back, the blood and sweat a blur, her screams punctuating his nerves. Thankful for his shades, small tears met at the corners of his eyes. He panted, his right hand on the chair to steady himself, left on his forehead, clawing away the memory. "For... forgive me."  
  
He was the ruler of an entire world. Regal, tall, proud. But his voice betrayed him by cracking, his legs by collapsing. He held his lips shut with his teeth, nearly drawing blood until his face grew red and he couldn't breathe. The Kaiser's lips spread open, sobs screaming out between flailing grabs for air.  
  
He was the ruler of an entire world. Yet here he was, kneeling, his face on the ground, in his hands. Crying and broken.  
  
_ For all those things I've done, they keep on creeping by me.  
And though we've changed our ways,  
still all our demons are laughing._  
  
Idiot! Half for his past actions and half for his present, Ken cried in the rising chaos of his mind. Get UP off the floor! Stand? But that would mean staring at her expression. No, you don't deserve to stand! Lay here like the filth you are.  
  
He was so embarrassed, subjected before his slave. But he couldn't go on living like this... Pretending he didn't care. Pretending he was still in control. The day rushed through his mind repeatedly, torturing his open wound. It wasn't ever her fault. It had always been his.  
  
His fault for years of brazen independence culminating in one act of pure insanity. A superiority complex that left him weak to criticism, blemishes on his pride and worth. His indifference to all life, human life precisely. And a deep desire for his first taste of uninhibited violence.  
  
_ How long will this go on? Aren't we a bit much stronger?  
I'd like to think you've come into my life to stay._  
  
But now he'd had it. Like a little child, stuck the whole thing in his mouth at once. And instead of spitting the vile thing out, he held it over his tongue, letting it fester into gaping sores.  
  
_ I don't know how to love. I just know how to live.  
All I feel is hate. Will you forgive me?_  
  
He hated himself! His mind a blur as he tried, through tears, to focus on the tile. It whipped into a frenzy when he realized she might not be there anymore. He couldn't see her, couldn't dare to lift his sorry head and check... He panicked again and fresh tears streamed down his fingers. What if she left? What if she was so disgusted, or so offended, that she walked away? Alone, crying on the floor, what a perfect vignette of a perfect being.  
  
_ I don't know how to breathe with you too far away.  
Don't know how to love. Will you forgive me?  
No I can't live this way!_  
  
Something settled on his throbbing head. Something light and ponderously warm. Between the folds of hatred, his mind tried to puzzle out what it could be. Was it a threat to him? No, probably not. Was it something that required his immediate attention? Not likely. The object moved through his hair in long, slow strokes. He liked the way it felt and was somewhat comforted. The sobs slowed as the Kaiser's attention focused on the new question. Whatever it was, it trailed across his ear, down his jaw. It cupped his chin lightly, with small pressure, begging him to tilt it up. He gave in, no longer any self-determination. His brain was flooded with the nagging, suffocating thought that he was so glad to have something else making decisions for him. The object could be his master - he its slave, and he'd be forever happy. His heavy, mildly blissful eyes opened as the object stopped its insistent path. Another object, warm again, and with fingers, slid the protective purple barrier from the bridge of his nose. A new kind of naked, he was caught helplessly in Miyako's eyes.  
"Ask me again." She whispered it, her face devoid of emotion.  
  
_ I don't know how to love. I just know how to live.  
All I feel is pain. Will you forgive me?_  
  
"Forgive me?" His eyebrows knotted the tiniest bit, expecting an open-handed slap. She bent further down in her crouching position, bringing her lips to the face she'd feared. His eyes closed unbidden, a small but sweet pain catching in his chest. She kissed him. The slave kissed her master and mental curtains were burnt as they deepened their tenuous hold on each other. She wrapped her hands around his head, ordering him to sit up. The cold and cruel Kaiser let a small whimper pass between his teeth as she tilted his head back, running her fingers down his exposed throat. Bliss. Utter bliss. She MUST feel the same way he felt for her. Else she was playing a terrible trick on him and he was falling for it with his heart and his mouth open wide. But he couldn't even think now, and if breathing required any concentration, he would be dying a most pleasurable death. She pulled away to stare at him, his lips red and parted. He tried to catch his breath, his brows inching heavenward in hope and utter lack of control on the situation. Any pretention lay in particles of dust around him, the only sign of his status draped across his back.  
  
_ I don't know how to breathe with you too far away.  
I don't know how to love._  
  
She stood; being tall she towered above him. Just a little boy in a world of shit of his own making. Miyako dropped one hand down to him, a lifeline he dearly wanted to climb. He grasped it with both hands, breathing a grateful kiss across her knuckles. Timidly he stood, solely existing for her command.  
"I have an idea." Whatever it was, he didn't care. Didn't think to care or want to care. She turned, dragging him behind her, trading the control room for the empty hallway.  
  
He loosened the grip of his evil right hand, trailing blindly by his left. He turned it over, inspecting. It was so bony, spattered with calluses from various activities. Ken smiled shyly. He'd put everything right. Make it up to her. All the bruises it caused, it would in turn heal.  
  
_ Past lives I've lived. Uncontrolled but sacred.  
You've finally seen all that's left of me._  
  
Miyako finally stopped in front of a door she'd been through before only to clean and pick up clothes for laundry. She turned the black knob, the rightful occupant following like a kicked puppy.  
  
_ So hard to see. So hard to breathe.  
Will you forgive me?_  
  
Yes. The question, in all regards and forms, resounded with a 'yes'.

  
  
  
  


EH: Continue? I'll leave to your imagination that task.  
Kaiser: Aw, no fair. I want some action!  
EH: Um, did you even read the chapter?  
EH and Miyako: sweatdrops /


	5. Sweat

EH: I was coerced into writing another chapter by a very adamant Kaiser. To  
put it briefly, he was _quite_ persuasive. That, and my hands are cuffed  
to the keyboard...  
Kaiser: Less talk! More story! snaps whip above EH's head /  
EH: I can't be creative under these conditions! Ugh, anyway, the same rules  
apply - I own nothing - but this time it's Digimon and Tool.  
Kaiser: Ha, ha! You couldn't find a decent Godsmack song, could you?!  
EH: Errr.... NO! I couldn't! It _really_ pisses me that I'd used 'Forgive Me'  
for the last chapter and should've used 'Mistakes' instead. Then FM would've  
been providing the background for this chapter.  
Ken: Tool's not that bad...  
EH: I was _getting_ to that part! I love Tool, really I do! 'Sweat' rocks, and  
they rock, and I NEED to buy their new album!  
Miyako: Um, what happened to the story?  
EH: Whoops! Okay, here it is... Oh yeah, did I mention  
that this is Sweat by Tool?  
Ken: Yep.  
  
  
  
_ I'm sweating  
and breathing  
and staring and thinking  
and sinking  
deeper.  
  
It's almost like I'm swimming  
_   
She closed the door behind them. The room was dark, save for a soft brushing of daylight next to the closed drapes. Dark and silent. Ken stood still behind her, not daring to think. She turned around, pinning the ruler to his own door. She leaned her weight into him, focusing it on her hands, preventing him from running.  
  
Like he would've. Ken stared into the dark lines of her face that his eyes were slowly adjusting for. He was half scared of her rediscovered impetuousness, half shamefully sullen at himself. He didn't move, he couldn't. Miyako tilted her head and locked his lips in a hungry, desperate kiss. Oh, she loved the way he smelled, she drew it in through her nose and rolled the warm, cottony scent over her brain. He began to kiss her back with closed lips, not wanting to start something he couldn't stop. Something that would bring that bastard part of his personality out.   
And let it run free.  
  
_ The sun is burning hot again  
on the hunter  
and the fisherman.  
And he's trying to remember when,  
but it makes me dizzy.  
_   
The world that was this stale room spun into nothingness around him. Everything was her lips, smoothing over his desperately - hot breath flowing onto his skin. Teasing the small immature hairs around his mouth. She took her hands away to pull apart the clasp on his cape. Ken dropped his head backwards, into the door, trying to control his breathing. Trying to stop his eyes from growing wide as his thoughts jogged ahead in time. Trying to stop himself from reaching up and pushing her down.  
  
_ Seems like I've been here before.  
Seems so familiar.  
Seems like I'm slipping  
into a dream within a dream.  
_   
Yes, just going ahead with what his unconscious Id had been throwing up in his face for months. That pretty little Digidestined girl. The one with the slim stomach and wide hips. The one... He closed his hentai eyes, but she had finished with the cape - it lay limp on the carpet - and was stroking her warm palms up and down his jumpsuit. He shivered coldly as something sensitive twitched in his body. The bad ruler took his curled fingers from the wood and pressed them into her shoulders, picked her up and tossed her to the bed; lustful haste.  
  
_ Must be the way you whisper.  
_   
Miyako fell onto the midnight blankets on the bed she made. The mattress creaked a little under her and she screamed. Her face knit painfully, grasping at her side. Ken strode over to the foot of it in an uncontrolled rampage. But her strained utterance grated on his ears and brought him to his knees.  
"Miyako?" She pulled in a ragged breath after letting out the air she held in. Her purple hair fell over her face as she drew her knees to her chest. "Ai, I'm sorry..." He stroked her hair, cradling the top of her skull in his hands. Both his hands. The only sound in the room began when she began to sniffle back the tears that ran down her face. Ken crawled up on the sheets, brushing her hair in long strokes, trying to wrap what he could of her body in a hug.  
  
_ The sun is setting cool again.  
I'm a thinker  
and a fisherman.  
And I'm trying to remember when  
but it makes me dizzy.  
_   
He was sorry for so much and he let her cry. Her sobs began to wane away from physical pain, pouring out of her mouth in simple sorrow now. Miyako tried to sit up, but with Ken hovering over her like a sentinel on the border of the frontline, she could only lean into him. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned backwards, laying them both down into the encompassing bed. She shifted off him a little, burying her red face in his neck. Her ribs hurt so much, a dull burn that came and went, but her mind hurt more. She nuzzled his neck, wanting to be held tighter by her master, wanting to find comfort in the instruments of her terror. And he did. Ken held her, kissing the top of her head, whispering sweet things into the atmosphere.  
  
_ And I'm sweating,  
and breathing,  
and staring and thinking.  
And sinking  
deeper.  
  
And it's almost like I'm swimming.  
_   
Her sobs died away, and she sighed, relaxing into the complete and utter attention Ichijouji gave her. He smelled differently now, warm and cottony, yes - but somewhat musty and... How did he taste? She opened her lips that were pressed to the smooth skin on his neck. Slowly and deliberately, she licked small patches of sweaty skin. He tasted... like something salty and alive. He tasted like all her dreams. She twisted her way up to his earlobe, slowly sucking and putting gentle pressure on it. He shivered, rolling out from under her - but staying in a close proximity to her mouth. So she wanted to try again, did she?  
  
Ken put all his fierce desires under layers of self-hatred. He put his hands on either side of her on the bed, making her stop her oral wanderings. Making her look him in the eyes. She'd taken off his glasses in the control room and he had felt ashamed, humiliated, naked. Now he wanted her to see his eyes, or rather what she could in the dark. Wanted her to see and understand.  
  
She looked up, her hair falling away from her face. Into those ocean eyes she'd wanted to see for so long. He looked like nothing, pure blankness, and everything at the same time. Exactly. There were no overwhelming feelings, just him. Just his soul, for everything that it was. Good and evil. Debasing passivity and the aggressiveness that scared her to death.  
  
Everything.  
  
_ Seems like I've been here before.  
Seems so familiar.  
Seems like I'm slipping  
into a dream within a dream.  
_   
Ken looked away from her eyes - she understood. She understood _him_. He pushed the hem of her shirt up a little, frowning deeply at the bruises that bandaged over the damage. He rolled his finger over the waves that were her small stomach muscles. Watched them ripple as they crashed into shore, desperately ticklish. They tightened reflexively, and she laughed at his touch. He was so delicate now.  
  
But that was the Kaiser - that was Ichijouji. That was just how he worked, her captor and her guardian. He leaned down, kissing every small spot he'd hurt. His right hand stroked over her skin, repayment in progress. Their room was still stale, the daylight at the window retreating. Time slipped by without notice.  
  
_ It's the way you whisper...  
It drags me under...  
and takes me home.  
_   
  
  
  
EH: I wrote this in one (count it) ONE night!  
Kaiser: Well, that was a little disappointing...  
EH: Ugh! Can't you be happy for once and congratulate me on a job well done?  
Miyako: Congrats! I thought it was sweet!  
EH: Heh, thank you... Um, now that I've got going again, I think there will  
be more chapters.  
Miyako: More? Haven't you already killed it?  
EH: Hey! Thanks for the support - showing your true colours... There will  
be plenty of angst and a little furthering of Ken and Miyako's relationship.  
Kaiser: Does 'angst' by any chance mean blood?  
EH: Yes.  
Kaiser: does funny little dance that you have to see to believe / Woohoo!  
Score one for the bad guys! 


	6. Time Bomb

Okay, this chapter will have someone die.... yes...  
Character death!!!!!  
You'll just have to guess who, cause I'm not telling!  
This is Time Bomb, by good ol' Godsmack.  
Oh, and by the way, as of yesterday, I don't own Digimon.

  
  
  
  


The icy wind tore under his spikes of hair and made his wet clothes cling.  
Couldn't this Airdramon go any faster?  
  
_ I am in a living hell,  
makes me wonder if I'm alive.  
Can't seem to bring myself  
to figure out why.  
  
_ The black curvature of the base appeared on the horizon, and the beast beneath him seemed to surge ahead faster. The worm wasn't talking, or whimpering, and he was so glad of it. Just one more thing to turn his mood.  
  
The ringed creature pulled its wings back in long strokes, slowing itself to land on the deck of the overhang. Ken slid off, a slight smile curling at his lips. He'd lost a few more control spires, but they'd lost too. It was all strategy, right?  
Something was flitting about in his mind, tainting the smirk. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Was he...? Did he...?  
And he felt embarrassingly guilty.  
  
The towering doors opened and the flying monster went dutifully to its cage. It didn't care what the battle today meant. It didn't know, or remember, much less care. Ken walked through shorter, though no less sinister and proud doors to the long and endless hallways he called home these days. Now, all he had to do was get a new change of clothes. And avoid Miyako.  
  
_I shove and I pull away  
to the things that I call you every day.  
I can't seem to break you down,  
but I know I'll come around._  
  
They'd grown so close after he'd apologized, she was like another limb. He moved her out of her stark quarters and into his own. She slept next to him every night, curled up against him, snoring softly. He needed her more than anything else in the world, but just as he'd never admit his weakness, he'd never tell the outcome of his afternoon battles. And she just _couldn't_ see him now!  
  
_I feel your pins,  
through my eyes,  
piercing me.  
  
_ Away from his precious control room screens, he had no idea where she was. The Kaiser kept his own footfalls light and his ears on alert for the footsteps of another.  
"Hey Ken! You're back!"  
No-  
  
_Lie down in all this piss,  
you drink it from me every day.  
I live in a world of shit,  
been left here to die.  
  
Sometimes I realize  
my mind is meant to go away.  
Never have I seen your god,  
so why should I believe in faith?_  
  
She was kneeling on the floor, scrubbing away at a scuff mark - hardly making a sound. She still did cleaning and work around the compound, but only because Ken didn't want her bored and fiddling with his things. Besides, as long as no one forced her to, she didn't mind doing the light cleaning. It was better than staring at the walls, waiting for Ichijouji to return.  
And then the questions came.  
"What happened?" Behind her glasses, her eyes grew wide and scared. "Are you okay?"  
  
_I feel your pins,  
through my eyes,  
piercing me,  
all the time.  
  
_ The blood splattered across his jumpsuit had partially dried, but it was still wet in places. The drops in his hair that stuck the strands together and the smears across his face only served to make him more frightening.  
  
_Another time bomb._  
  
"Yes, I'm fine." It was as monotone as he could spit out. But she didn't believe him, there was too much liquid for her to stop worrying. His entire left pant leg was soaked to repulsion, and while the blood on his torso had dried in large splotches, the ends of his cape dripped quietly.  
"What happened?" she questioned again, standing up. Through his glasses, he forced himself to be angry and cold, staring her down.  
"Nothing." The word slid out his throat snake-like, and she backed up a step to let him pass.  
  
_I am in a living hell,  
makes me wonder if I'm alive.  
Can't seem to bring myself  
to figure out why.  
  
_ Had he been quicker, that would've been the end of it. But no...  
"The blonde boy-"  
"QUIET!" That insufferable worm... He'd almost forgotten he was there, and he spun on a dime to scream at him as soon as he heard him speak. Old habits took over and the length of leather was taken from his pocket. The bug shut his eyes and mouth.   
  
_ I shove and I pull away  
to the things that I call you every day.  
I can't seem to break you down,  
but I know I'll come around.  
  
_ Ken stood, whip twitching for another go, the hallway ringing with echoes. His teeth clenched, panting dangerously, only Miyako dared to move. She slowly dropped to her knees, scooping Wormmon into her arms. Lowering her face to his antennae, she whispered reassuringly.  
"What did you say?" His sad, blue eyes opened, begging her not to make him say it again.  
"The blonde boy, he..." Wormmon looked away, unable to continue. He was scared of Ken, even whilst being held by the one he whisperingly called 'angel'. And he couldn't - he just couldn't think about it again... He just couldn't...  
She looked up at Ken, the horror in her eyes screaming for him to deny it.  
  
_ What am I waiting for?_  
  
"What happened to Takeru? Is he okay?" Despite himself - despite how his insides cried - a small, evilly sarcastic smirk split his mouth.  
"With this much blood, do you _think_ he's okay?" No, no, no, no, no. Her mouth opened, gasping for air, gasping to keep the tears back. No, no, no. _  
  
I feel your pins,  
through my eyes,  
piercing me,  
all the time.  
  
_ "Is he d...?" Out of the corners of her eyes, tears spilt like the soap water no longer in it's bucket when he nodded once. No. She let go of Wormmon, holding her head in her hands and curling up against the wall. No, not TK.  
  
Ken stood still and silent. He _wanted_ to walk away from her quaking form and take these cold clothes off. He _wanted_ to crouch down and hold her. But he did neither. He waited for her sobs to slow, waited for the questions that would invariably come.  
"How?" Her eyes to the floor, it was a question, but not voiced as one. More as a demand. How? How could one of them be dead? How did it happen? How would things be from then on? He sighed heavily, leaning up against the opposite wall. This was going to be painful.  
  
_ Never find the time to find another place,  
I'm a bad motherfucker who lives it every day.  
You never look at me now,  
You never look me in the face,  
I'm a time bomb, yeah!  
_  
"How? Well, lemme tell ya. Your wonderful friends were taking down my control spires again, and hm... I decided to go out and stop them." His voice was playful and sardonic, and it cut her like a scythe. But he couldn't help himself. "Little Takeru was being all macho per usual, and jumped me. Me! He dropped onto my Airdramon and knocked me off. My shoulder still hurts like a son of a bitch. Then he pins me to the ground and starts throwing punches. It was so immature, I was embarrassed beyond belief." His tone dropped to sharp and icy. "So do you know what I did? I kicked that little fucker off me. Seems he didn't even consider how much it would hurt if I ever retaliated, and he curled up into a little ball, holding his sides and going 'ooh, ooh, ooh'. Moron didn't even see the DarkTyrannomon coming. SPLAT!" His hands came together and his mouth split in a smirk, animating the moment for her. "Little pieces of dear Takeru everywhere."  
"STOP!" Miyako jumped to her feet, tears falling faster. She cupped her hands to her ears. "You sadistic bastard!" The smile fell from his face as she ran down the hall and out of sight.  
  
_ Time bomb...  
Time bomb...  
Time-bomb-time-bomb-time-bomb!_

  
  
  
  


EH: There.  
Wormmon & Miyako: @_@ ~_~  
Kaiser: claps Well, you delivered. Although, I must say,  
you could've used more detail.  
EH: Ugh! No! There are children out there! You can  
understand what happened without me going and-  
Kaiser: -describing how his ribs sounded as they shattered  
under the beast's cruel foot?  
Wormmon: Ken!  
Ken: Sorry.  
EH: Expect more. It would be _cruel_ gives Ken the 'evil eye'  
to leave you hanging, loyal readers.


	7. The Speed Of Pain

Forgive me, y'all. That last chapter was terribly  
dark and deep down, I knew I had it wrong...  
...sob..  
But this chapter is better! No writer's remorse  
here. So BLAH!  
Heh, sorry for that, it was a little childish.  
Chapter Six will NOT be mutilated (like I regretfully did to  
chapter one) and the story will continue on slowly in it's own  
sick, twisted little way. ~_^  
  
This song contains a couple bad words, but this is rated R people!  
Sorry...  
It's _The Speed Of Pain_ by Marilyn Manson and I've never heard  
it, but the lyrics fit not too shabbily.  
  
Claimer: I own Digimon.  
Wallpaper, that is.  
  
One more thing: This is the first storylet I've typed on my new  
BLACK keyboard. I'm so happy! It's so pretty! I'd christen it proper,  
but I hear champagne does a number on electronics.

  
  
  
  


Miyako ran down the dark, crushing hallway. The tears were coming, running down her face, laughing as they spattered by her feet.  
She couldn't breathe.  
Death? It stared menacingly from behind her, chasing her. If she could just outrun it, Takeru wouldn't be dead, Ken wouldn't be responsible, and the game they played wouldn't be irrevocably soured.  
  
_ They slit our throats  
Like we were flowers  
And our milk has been devoured_  
  
Too many thoughts raced through her mind. She had been so happy; why did he have to take it all away?  
Happy?  
_Here?_  
This was her prison where she had but the thinnest whiff of self-determination. Her freedom - their relationship - was all a lie, he did as he pleased, and she continued to believe it was her idea.  
Oh, but how she'd been happy.  
He was Ken Ichijouji to her again, the Kaiser while he was away - but what if he was playing this game all the time?  
_Why_ couldn't she just be _happy_!?  
  
_ When you want it  
It goes away too fast  
When you hate it  
It always seems to last  
But just remember when you think you're free  
The crack inside your fucking heart is me_  
  
Oh, but how she'd been happy.  
  
Her lungs and legs were fit to burn, and she stopped, leaning on the mute black of his walls. She glanced behind her and - even though the liquid in her eyes clouded her vision - she could see the spectre that was chasing forebodingly had given up. She was so far away from any room or landmark, the hall stretched into shadows on either side.  
  
_ I wanna outrace the speed of pain for another day_  
  
And now it caught up with her. No, not the dark ghostly harbinger she imagined, but all the thoughts and screams running around in her head. And it hurt. Knowing he was always playing one step ahead, always detached, directing her soft, pretty heart with one eye on his empire.  
He'd given her what she wanted, a shy, delicate little boy to love, and - one way or another - brought her under control. It wasn't the violence or the fear of it that held her in check, it was her own foolish head. Traitor.  
  
_ I wish I could sleep  
But I can't lay on my back  
Because there's a knife  
For everyday that I've known you_  
  
She was the Brutus of the Destineds' struggle, giving in to the enemy who whispered softly. The Julius C. whose silken hair fell in his face when his glasses were off, when he bent over her at night and told her precious things in a foreign tongue. Sliding to her knees, Miyako shuddered slightly. Her heart ached, for she'd never imagined the depth of her joy. She hadn't said it out loud, and that was the one thing that kept her self-esteem afloat now. But she loved him.  
And even if it wasn't for real, she wanted that boy back.  
  
_ When you want it  
it goes away too fast  
When you hate it  
It always seems to last  
But just remember when you think you're free  
The crack inside your fucking heart is me_  
  
Her purple hair swayed lightly as she decided to stand up.  
Now or never, honey.  
She had two choices, and she started walking her way out of this concrete jungle to find them.  
One: live happily, stupidly, and pretend nothing had happened.  
Two: declare war, forget your mistakes, and take the miserable pain as it came. _'Et tu...?'_  
She left it up to his reaction to decide for her.  
  
The youngest Inoue knew she'd found familiar territory when she saw the little Wormmon. The wind blew a door to the outside behind him closed, and she recognized she was near the glass-domed control center that sat on top of his floating citadel like a crown.  
"I wouldn't go out there." She'd never been 'out there', the balcony-of-sorts that was the cement roof. It didn't have a railing, but it was flat, high, and exposed to the stabbing wind - what else would you call it?  
"I have to." She didn't speak it, for the voice in her throat stayed there. The little insect nodded his head, now burnished slightly red with lost tears, and crawled aside to let the human past.  
"He's out there, you know. I wouldn't-"  
  
_ I wanna outrace the speed of pain for another day_  
  
She turned back to him, only to solidify her resolve. How the creature must be hurting, he'd been betrayed most of all. But, perhaps, there was some comfort in the fact that he'd turned on the bug so many times and knew it was coming so many more. Some relief in repetition.  
Perhaps not. His antennae were so low he was bound to step on them. She wanted to pick him up and hold him, but that would only make her cry again, and crying was NOT something she wanted to give in to now.  
  
Setting her jaw, straightening her shoulders, and breathing in deep, Miyako psyched herself up. It wasn't going to be easy, but the old Miyako could. She could too.  
She pushed the door open to face der Kaiser and tell him _exactly_ how heartless he was and how he'd _never_ be better than her, Takeru, or the rest who fought against him.  
There he was, standing by the edge - almost _too_ close to the edge. A small fire was lit and smoldering next to him, wind carrying the ashes away into space. She cleared her throat to make him turn around and face her. When he did, all her 'choices' became null and void.  
  
He was wearing some odd clothing, grey and uncreative, and his glasses were gone, dropping from his limp hand to the sooty mark still half-burning next to him. He didn't watch them fall, but she did. Watched them click on the roof and nestle next to the burning material.  
In that scrutinizing instant, she realized what he'd lit on fire.  
  
His cape. His jumpsuit.  
...His whip.  
  
Her firm mouth spread open, failing to stifle a gasp. Then... he must be wearing his school uniform...? She looked back up, their eyes locking onto each other, reaching to talk without speaking. Under his tousled hair, those big, blue eyes of his filled and spilled, dethroning the Caesar as they hissed in the coals when they fell.  
  
_ Lie to me, cry to me, give to me  
I would  
Lie with me, die with me, give to me  
I would  
Keep all your secrets wrapped in dead hair  
I hope at least we die holding hands for always_  
  
She no longer had any choices.

  
  
  
  


Wormmon: Somebody feels my pain! gushes  
EH: Oh, you poor little neglected creature.  
Miyako: Ahem- I'd like to thank you for that nice little  
bit of mushiness at the end.  
EH: You're welcome. You were crying for a long time, so I  
figured it was Ken's turn.  
Kaiser: I-  
EH: Silence! You don't get to comment at all.


	8. The Spiral

Okay, here goes. This is the eighth ! chapter of this fic. Originally, I thought I'd only get about three, possibly four... How wrong I was.  
  
Anyway. I'm listening to Silverchair's Diorama right now, and if you haven't heard it, you are one of the millions of unenlightened. PS, A line of dialog in here refers to the lyrics of the song _My Favourite Thing_, but I'm not telling which one... Buy the album! That was a small plug that has NOTHING to do with the story. Perhaps I'm leading into telling you about the songs from THIS fic... Yeees...  
  
I'm putting them up on my website so you can listen while you read. A soundtrack! Anyway, there IS a disclaimer, since I'm not big into lawsuits that says you've gotta delete them after 24 hours because YOU don't own them. There.  
  
On with THIS chapter however. The song is _The Spiral_ by Godsmack, so we've gone and come round full circle from where we started. I do NOT own Godsmack's songs, Silverchair's songs, nor any of the characters in Digimon, but I use them like I do. Don't sue!  
  
And, to everyone who's been reviewing this piece of shit, thank you from the bottom of my heart! Reviews and Vitamin C and protein and sunshine... Rose Silverstein, evil little person, and Blondie, you guys are the best!

  
  
  
  


_ Sometimes we only live for the here and now.  
Sometimes we're lonely.  
Sometimes we feel we need a place to be grounded.  
Or fly away again.  
  
I will fly away again.  
No, I will fly away again.  
_   
He had nothing to cover his eyes now. Even the air between them parted, allowing her to see every tear as it appeared and fell. He didn't know what to think, just the overwhelming nag in the back of his mind that wanted to raise his hands and hide behind them. Raise his hands to cover his eyes or to hit her until she closed hers.  
  
Just something.  
  
_ I feel rain pouring down.  
_   
Just anything to stop this awkward moment in mid-stride. What was he now? Nothing. Not a God, not his goal, nothing. He wasn't wearing his royal robes, he'd torn those off - offending and tight and memory soaked. He'd quickly written up a different outfit, something new, something that he hadn't worn before and couldn't contain any ties to past regrets. The shirt wasn't anything special, just a black long-sleeved zip; the pants comfortable and baggy and such a dark blue they were nearly black as well. His hair was limp like in the real world, his feet bare and unshod. Black along with limp and pathetic: mirror on his mood. He dropped his head, cutting off the connection between their eyes. His hair - yes - would serve to hide his face now.  
  
"Ichijouji?" He could hear the hesitancy in her voice, unsure of what to call him. He snickered humorlessly. Good route, Miya-chan.  
"What?" It was said in complete monotone, waiting for her to show emotion. He was doing enough of that, exceeding his quota and deciding to show her nothing but stone and pensiveness.  
"Are you okay?" Oh, that was so like Miyako. Wondering, wishing for his sanity. But he knew he wasn't okay. Wishing wasn't going to change that. He'd wholly lost his grip on himself and - in doing so - his kingdom. How was he supposed to rule and conquer and continue when he lacked direction, focus?  
  
Faith?  
  
_ I wait to ride away,  
live again,  
here forever,  
the spiral never ends.  
Never ends.  
_   
"Where has it gone?" He mumbled it to the wind, hoping for an answer on the next gust.  
"Huh?"  
"Nothing, Miya." Something seemed strange all of a sudden as the words left his mouth. Miya? Wait - not only was she speaking to him - he was using one of her many private pet names in broad daylight like nothing was wrong. Like it was everyday, and just in bed, just talking about nothing. Just carousing and lounging and nothing at all. "Miya." He brushed the bangs out of his blurred view, looking up to catch her still there, still concerned eyes. Child-like and naïvely weak he whispered, "Where did it go?"  
  
His jaw clenched, and Ken sobbed as streams of fluid tears traced down his porcelain cheeks. Where did it go? Had it just left? Had his pride and self-assurance betrayed him too? Miya, beautiful Miyako stepped across the air between them, holding him tightly. Letting him bow his head into the crook of her neck and quake and shake and cry into her shoulder. "Oniisan." Between his teeth, it was both a mute cry and an embittered warning. As if the spirits of the dead would hear him and fear him. "Miya..." His short nails, perfectly cut and filed, dug at her shirt, holding her close so she'd hold him closer.  
  
_ Why are we feeling something's familiar around us?  
Are we just dreaming?  
_   
Miyako brushed his wind driven hair from his cowed neck with her nose, placing small deliberate kisses across his skin.  
  
"Ken-chan. Ken, it's okay-" She corrected herself-"it'll BE okay. I'm here, and it's going to be okay." Her kisses calmed him some, but underneath the warm mellow feeling that was only the skin on the monster, he wanted to pull away.  
  
_ Always we search for the answers, nothing is found.  
I will fly away again.  
_   
And he did, after pushing her gently towards the door from which she came, still standing open. She didn't understand how alone he now felt, how desperate and stranded and utterly powerless and lonely. How it felt to have your backbone slip through your grip like grains of sand. Or molecules of air in the wind.  
  
"I feel like letting go."  
  
He backed up again, his heels hanging off the edge, balancing on the wisp of breath of his bare toes.  
  
_ No, I will fly away again.  
_   
It was like she was in front of a television set, watching a movie and staring, popcorn halfway to her gawking jaw, frozen immobile.  
"Osamu-san." That was it, his brother and himself. Two perfect beings who could betray and lie and deceive and tear apart his mind and heart. They had both failed. And then there was Takeru, new blood on his hands. HE had caused it. HIM. So much pain lived inside his heart in the real world - escaping here, there was the pain of Miyako. Now of Takeru. And always his heart, beating blood through his numb, decaying, dying body.  
  
_ I feel rain pouring down.  
I wait to ride away,  
live again,  
here forever,  
the spiral never ends.  
_   
He couldn't speak. He didn't have anything left to say.  
  
"KEN!!" He saw her lunge, arm outstretched, trying to defy its structure and reach to him. But it couldn't. Nothing could ever reach him. He bunched up his toes and pushed back in one small movement, closing his eyes to the sun and wind and letting his stiff body dip backwards into the great crevasse of nothing that separated him from the ground some fifty stories below.  
  
_ Ride away,  
live again,  
here forever,  
the spiral never ends.  
_   
"KEN!!" The second scream came from behind Miyako, the green caterpillar emerging from the shadows he sat in, watching. "NO!!" No, Ken had disappeared from sight but Wormmon knew exactly where he was. Falling. His partner, his frail white little human body falling to be broken. No. He squeezed his eyes shut and the tears out as a bright pink light hovered around his body. Why couldn't he protect him now when he needed him most?!  
  
_ I will fly away again.  
_   
That last thought, that selfless love that he had always harbored was the catalyst of his hidden potential. Ken. His new, still wet wings spread and reached where Miyako's arm, now flailing over the edge of the balcony could not. He followed their soundless, frenzied direction, tucking himself into an insect bullet and diving over the edge.  
  
_ I feel rain pouring down.  
_   
If only. If only Ken would fall slower with his arms outstretched, bobbing in the wind. If only. If only he could wish himself sleeker, quicker, and find the boy in his arms. Ah, the power of a wish in this world.  
  
_ I wait to ride away,  
live again,  
here forever,  
the spiral never ends.  
_   
Miyako watched the insectoid digimon helplessly, felt her heart stop beating as the shy, delicate little boy she loved fell closer to the death he wanted. Only a second lay between them, and Stingmon reached over time with his metal-clad fingers, wrapping them tightly around his body and flexing his untested wings out to catch the dry gusts of air and pull them back from the jaws of destruction.  
  
"...Wormmon?"  
"Ken..." The words caught in his throat, his partner was speaking as he held him close to his chest with both arms. That beautiful soft voice that was so close to almost being gone. The rough, rocky ground sped away from them as they arced upward to the balcony. Safety.  
  
"KEN!! Her heart began beating again and she screamed his name as he and Stingmon landed on the surface of his base. She ran over, away from that infamous edge, to join the safe, warm embrace they shared. "Ken... why? Don't... don't do that!" Ken was breathless, but aware enough to be angry.  
"Why?! Why the hell can't I!? He tried to push away from the muscular grip of his digimon that held him in place. "Don't I have the right to stop this pain?! Life is pain for me, now more than ever. _Neither_ of you have the right to stop me!"  
  
Life was so not like the movies. Perfection was a hopeless and futile task. But he WAS perfect. For his entire life, he'd put up the facade of flawlessness. "I can't live like this! I can't live with these thoughts in my head and these things that I've done!"  
  
"Just because you can't be perfect, doesn't mean you can't be happy!" Miyako tried to reason with him as she could and was crying now too. Even the featureless digimon's eyes watered at the edges. His human in so much pain? Sure, HE knew pain - mostly at Ken's hands - but the thought that Ken hated himself? No. It was too much for his mind. "And even if you can't be happy, that doesn't stop you from living!"  
"Why? Why can't it? If I'm not perfect, then I don't need to worry about blowing my perfect streak with a smudge and a mar like suicide." Now was the time. To hell with vain thoughts of self-esteem.  
"I _need_ you Ken, don't you know that? Didn't you know you were throwing me to my death too, because even though I shouldn't, I love you!"  
  
He stopped struggling in the inhuman hold, hair falling in his eyes, hiding the fact that her last words were echoing in his mind. Love? How could she? 'even though I shouldn't...' Of course she shouldn't. She didn't! He had done so many evil things to her, put her mind and body through so much agony. He lifted his head, hair gone from his eyes, to her face.  
  
Miya, I love YOU. THAT at least, was true - as true as it had been since the first day he saw her. Perhaps it wasn't a pure or righteous kind of love then, something black and twisted that little boys - no matter how perfect - hide in their closets and under their beds. But it was love, always had been, and now... Now it was something so elemental to his being that it hurt, something so close he didn't give it thought, one more guilt that pushed him off the edge.  
"No, you can't." I'm evil! "I'm the Kaiser... I-"  
"Sshhh..." She put her fingers to his lips, but he shook his head violently away.  
"No! You can't love me. Don't you _dare!_ I'm selfish and evil and _I'm_ the one who gets to love you!"  
"What?..." But she didn't need to ask or do anything at all. His eyes - it was _always_ his eyes - gave it away. It was the truth. When the Kaiser lied, you knew it. When the Kaiser was mad, you knew it. When the Kaiser told the truth that had been burning away at his flesh...  
  
And Miyako Inoue finally had her shy, delicate little boy to love.  
  
_ I will fly away again._

  
  
  
  


EH: Just a small note this time, folks.  
Stingmon: I digivolved!  
EH: Yeah, I felt so bad for you, cause you hardly ever do...  
Anyway, send any flames/odes to my greatness to aquamala@juno.com  
Ken: Fin


End file.
